Contemplative
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Steph says that Paul likes to contemplate little things. On the eve of his birthday, he contemplates the most important little thing of all. - One-shot.


Stephanie always liked to comment on just how deeply he liked to contemplate things. Real thing. The way that he would just sit down, at the end of the day, alone, and think over all that had gone on. Even when they were just dating and his life consisted of little other than wrestling and working out, he always needed that decompression time, where he could replay the day in his mind and go over every little detail.

Maybe that's what he was doing, he decided, that first night they brought his daughter home. It was never a conscious thing, honestly, and whenever Steph would mention to him that he did this, he would always deny it. But as he stood over his daughter's crib, just watching her, he felt as if he was pretty contemplative.

She was so tiny.

This had been his first observation, when things finally calmed down, two days ago, when she was born. He knew she would be. He'd been around newborns before, after all. He and Steph had taken care of Shane's son on more than a few occasions.

He was prepared for it, but… Man.

She felt even tinier, whenever he held her. Paul couldn't imagine her growing to be a full sized human. Not when she was so small at the moment. It would almost be like comparing the acorn to the 100 year oak. Completely breathtaking.

The newness hadn't worn off either, as he stood over the crib, watching his baby. It had been two days, but they had seemed off, being in that hospital. Different. Now they were home. Where it would all truly begin.

Those first few hours were crazy. The baby hadn't liked her car ride home and enjoyed her new surroundings even less. It didn't help that Stephanie was in a rather foul mood or that his mother and hers had followed them back to the house. It wasn't until they were gone and Steph had a nap that things cooled down a bit.

The baby slept for awhile too.

Not long. She was discomforted by seemingly nothing constantly. Paul figured it was quite the adjustment, actually living and breathing, and tried hard not to hold it against her.

Hours seemed to drag on though, as he mostly sat around in the nursery, not finding sleep as easily as Steph, given that it would only be interrupted every half hour or so. She could get up just fine, it seemed, tend to their newborn, and then go fall right back into bed once the child was calm again, no problem.

Not him though.

He mostly played that little snake game on his cell phone and sat in the rocking chair in the nursery, being right there for his daughter when she needed him.

She needed him a lot.

This proved fatal, however, when his body gave out on him around nine that night. The baby had worn herself out, waking and crying so much, and was had been sleeping peacefully for about an hour, which meant that he was gonna go conk out himself. Stephanie was up though, milling around the house, doing...something, he didn't care what, probably messing with her stupid dog that they were still trying to make understand that they weren't banning him outside because they didn't love him (or at least because she didn't), but because of the baby.

Think of the baby.

At ten though, the baby started back up again and they seemed back to their random schedule of her crying and her resting. Paul kinda found that he liked it better, up at that hospital, where the nurse could tend to the baby.

Her lungs definitely didn't have any restraints. None at all. She could wail her little head off, right off the bat.

Around midnight, when they were for certain that the baby probably wouldn't need to be nursed again for a bit, Paul told Steph that she could go ahead and call it a night for awhile. They could switch off in the morning.

"Are you sure?" Steph yawned, though she was heading out of the nursery anyways. They'd thought about putting the crib in their bedroom for the first month or so, but Steph had been so excited about how cute the nursery looked and, honestly, Paul kinda didn't want it in there anyways, so they decided against it. "I can-"

"I'm fine," he mumbled as he sat down in that rocking chair again, glad it supported his weight. "I'll get you if I need you."

They hadn't kissed all day, it seemed, but Steph did stop, in the doorway, before turning back around to go do just that. She pressed a gentle one to his cheek and Paul grinned for her, but let her head off to bed after that.

Then he got back to that dang snake.

For a bit anyways. He must have nodded off or something because the sound of the baby startled him awake some time later. Paul sat with a start, confused momentarily, but quickly realized it was his newborn making the noises. And, getting to his feet, he went to find out what was wrong.

Nothing. She was just...making sounds, really, as she laid there, eyes opened, and moving around a bit. Steph said she couldn't have a blanket, because she might, like, suffocate or something (which seemed cruel to him, but she assured him she was warm enough in her onesie), but when he reached out slowly to press a hand to her little head, she didn't feel cold.

Blinking up at him, the baby seemed rather indifferent, only continuing to make her noises. It wasn't crying though and Paul wasn't sure if he should pick her up or not, for fear of disturbing her by doing so.

Which is how he ended up in what Steph would call his contemplative mode. Studying, maybe, was more like it. He felt like he was studying his daughter. From her bright eyes that Steph said might get darker, because that happened with babies, to her dark hair, which Steph said might get lighter, because that also could happen with babies, Paul took it all in.

The hand, still resting gently against her head, turned a bit, so that he could ran the hand slowly down her tiny face, taking in her soft, pale flesh. She felt so...nice, beneath his fingertips. Warm. Alive. His baby was there and alive and with him.

Paul wasn't sure, honestly, what he would feel when she finally got there. His baby. He thought he'd feel...love or something like that, but the word didn't quite fit. Not yet.

He felt possession. Possessive, rather. He wanted to keep her safe and close and with him at all times. Away from anything that might hurt her or infect her or bother her or any of those other things that could happen to little tiny babies. She was his. Not really a person yet, just the future shell of one, but she was his shell. He owned her. And wanted to keep her forever.

Maybe that was the root of love.

Hand falling lower then, Paul rested it on the baby's tummy, feeling then the cloth of her onesie as well as the gentle rise and fall of her stomach as she breathed slowly. In and out. In and out. The noises had stopped and Paul watched her face as, slowly, his baby shut her eyes once more.

She was comfortable again.

Stephanie had wanted a girl and Paul typically went back and forth on what he wanted, so they were both rather relieved when the found out what they were having. They never once considered not finding out and being surprised (neither was too good at surprises) and it let Steph get started on that nursery that she loved so much. It did change things, just a bit, for Paul, knowing he wouldn't have a son.

Not in a...misogynistic way. Certainly not. Just different. It took away, at least the immediate thoughts of, teaching his son how to play football and wrestling and watching games way passed the boy's bedtime. He knew there was a chance that his daughter would enjoy those sorts of things, but it'd still just be...different.

He hoped, actually, that his daughter would be a bit like Steph. She always seemed very interested in all the things that her father did, but also more feminine things. Or maybe his daughter wouldn't like anything he did. At all. Not wrestling or working out or anything sporty. And would only like the girly things. And he'd have to find other ways to connect with her.

Maybe they'd get both enjoy the same cartoons. He figured he could get behind a good cartoon and she'd probably have good taste in those sorts of things because, hey, she had damn good genes.

She could even just be a complete tomboy and not like anything feminine at all and only wanna wrestle and play in the mud and do sports and hang out with him. He really hoped she'd like the last one regardless of what sort of spectrum she fell on, as far as interests went. His dad always took him and his sister places, growing up, so he hoped that she'd enjoy going with him

He knew, of course, that his schedule would feel impossible for her at times, but when she was old enough, he hoped that she'd wanna go around with him, in the summer time or during vacation from school, and see him preform. That she'd be proud of him. See that it was more than just acting. That it took dedication. That he'd honed his craft perfectly.

Paul wanted to wrestle long enough for her to see that. And, even if he couldn't, then he wanted to be able to take tapes and show her, one day, all that he'd been able to accomplish. Show her the scar on his knee from when it was almost all taken from him. Tell her the stories about how it was more than just going out there and rumbling around in a ring. Like about the 'Curtain Call' or risking it all, to be with her mother. That there was more to the sport than strength.

It was personal too.

He thought he'd like it, at times, if she wanted to be a wrestler too, but on others, when he thought about the long nights, torn muscles, and sleeplessness abound, it just wasn't something that he thought his daughter should get in to.

The other half of him though, the half that wanted to pass on his trade, wanted her to always admire the skill and beg him to teach it to her. Maybe not even professional wrestling, but perhaps just body building. He thought that could be tons of fun. He enjoyed it, in his teen years, and thought she might too. Or maybe a more traditional style wrestling. Did they have female leagues for that in high school?

Maybe his daughter could just kick the ass of boys.

Yes. He certainly liked the sound of that.

But that would be all a long way away, he knew, so very far away, and Paul should focus on the current goals. Like the first tooth that would begin pushing through her feeble gums, the first time he thought she called him Dada (the first actual time she would call him Dada), when she'd sit up on her own, when she'd crawl, when she'd walk. Those sorts of things. The important things, for the time being.

The first year things.

Hell, he was still having a hard time with not gagging through diapers.

But...Paul liked thinking about the future. About his daughter. Who might have bright or dark eyes and most certainly would have hair, given the tuff she was sporting since she arrived in the world, though it might stay dark or turn fair. The daughter that would grow and be much too large, one day, to fit snuggled to his chest as she sobbed and wouldn't always think that his hand resting on her tummy was soothing and comforting.

"Aurora."

He said her name softly, as not to awaken her, but also because he wanted to hear it. Stephanie liked that name. He wasn't fond of it, particularly, when she first mentioned it, especially when he thought of his baby going to school and growing up and having to hear other people tease her for it.

He found it a rather tease worthy name.

"A goddess?" he'd remarked, rather incredulous, as his pregnant wife only gave him a frown. "The Goddess of Dawn? You want to name our daughter after-"

"I dunno, _Paul_ , the servant of God who-"

"That's different than-"

"But is it?"

Was it?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But as he stood over her, watching her, he felt like she could be an Aurora. He wasn't so sure she was just yet, but she certainly was his. That was what was important.

He had the next RAW off, as well as the one after that. He'd be back to work the first week of August, but that felt like a lifetime away, after the day he'd had. He couldn't imagine leaving Aurora and Stephanie alone, but he wouldn't have to. Her mother would be around, he was sure. Plus some of her friends, maybe.

But…

Already, Paul figured he was the best at caring for Aurora. His baby. Not for any reason in particular either. Just because. Sure, Steph had carried her to term and could nurse her and already seemed to have that special bond that hadn't right formed for him other than his possessiveness over the newborn, but what difference did that make?

He'd be close to his baby. He just felt it. Sure, Paul knew that he'd be gone frequently and had a lot on his plate already, but he'd learned to make time for Steph, when he fell in love with her. Which only meant he could make extra time for his baby who, fine, he didn't feel that perfect connection too just yet, but definitely did care about. Worried over, even then, as he moved to feel her head again to be sure that time that she wasn't overheated (it was, after all, July), but finding her skin to be the same temperature it had felt before, he took a step back finally and held his breath.

Nothing. Just her breathing, softly. In and out. In and out.

Aurora was fine.

Aurora was safe.

Aurora was his.

Leaving her for a bit, Paul went to take a leak in the guest bathroom and check on the poor dog, who Steph had let sleep in the den, because it was a big adjustment for him too, Paul knew, and even if he was an annoying mutt, he still liked (secretly loved) him.

He was his pooch too.

The baby slept for a good hour and a half as he sat in the rocker in her room, waiting for her to wake back up. Just as he was getting ready to head to his own room, thinking that perhaps she'd be content for awhile, diaper duty sprang itself back up and he was back to trying not to gag.

He liked his baby. Would never trade in his baby. But damn could she mess up a diaper.

Aurora wasn't content either, with a fresh one, and it woke Steph, who took her from him, though that did letting to help. She seemed to need to though, Stephanie did, hold the baby when she was so inconsolable. That it had to be her that made things okay. That fixed things. That cared for her. Paul figured it was maternal, like how he wanted to stop the problems before they ever arose. Paternal.

She slept eventually, but only after driving them both up the wall. And on the first night.

Promptly at seven, Paul went to fall into bed, Steph joining him soon after, the baby monitor on and both of them praying it wouldn't be needed.

"Your mother," Steph mumbled to him when the baby inevitably started up as well as the dog's whines to be taken to the bathroom, "will be here at ten."

Paul only groaned, tossing the pillow off the top of his head as he pushed up to go deal with the dog and Steph went to tend to the baby.

"I know," he groaned as they left the room. "I'll have to, like, splash tons of water on my face or something. Be presentable. Is that what you were going to tell me?"

"That," Steph sighed, "and happy birthday, by the way."

"Was that today?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Thank-"

"Oh, and change out of that spit up stained shirt before your mother-"

"Spit up stained- Ew!" Paul hadn't seen himself in the bright light of day until then and found that, true enough, Aurora had managed to slobber on him or something at some point during the night, leaving a huge stain.

How had he missed that?

Was he that tired?

Was that possible?

Was Steph going to make him change the sheets then because he'd no doubt transferred the nasty spit germs?

"It's not that big of a deal," she said simply, patting him on the arm as he turned to rush back over towards their closet, stripping off that shirt first. "I thought you knew. It's just spit up. Babies-"

"Babies should keep that kinda stuff to themselves."

"Oh, Paul. You'll get used to it."

And he would.

"No, I won't."

Just not in that moment.

Steph had managed to get to Aurora then and called back to him, from down the hall, over the sounds of her cries and the dog's whines, "You get the spit and sweat and grim of every guy you wrestle with in the ring on you all the time."

Which was true enough. Plus, as he'd find out in the coming days, spit up was literally the last thing he should worry about Aurora getting on him. Babies had a dirty little secret that no one ever told him about; they were the most disgusting things on the planet.

Most certainly.

It would come to not matter in the coming days, as exhaustion won out and overall acceptance of his daughter and all of her functions became the norm and, not to mention, that love stuff kicked in and it wouldn't matter if touching her turned him to stone; if she was crying, he was going to tend to her.

For the day though, it was one of the things he griped to his mother about, albeit lightheartedly, and Linda as well, when she came over, because that was just what he did. He made the women laugh at his ignorance. He was good at it.

Then, at night, he'd be able to stand over Aurora's crib again, no doubt, and think it all over. All of it. How different his 37th year was already shaping up to be, compared to his 36th. The way that his mother seemed happier than he'd ever seen her, when she was holding Aurora. All that Vince said, over the phone, when he called to talk to Steph and somehow wound up awkwardly wishing his son-in-law a happy birthday. How his own father had done the same, as he'd come with his mother, and that he too seemed rather stoked over his new granddaughter, which was really saying something, considering how stoic the man could be.

Oh, and especially just how much more he was going to have to give up, if he was also going to have to get used to Aurora's dribble, spittle, and vomit all from burping her.

Although, honestly, the last one didn't need much contemplation. It was rather easy to answer.

Everything. He'd give up everything. Because that's what parents did.

And he'd never question it. Not a single time.


End file.
